


Up In Flames

by wordsandwritings



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Gen, The platonic pairing they deserve, as per usual muntadhir is my problematic fave, i think they would have a great friendship given time and the right circumstances, theyd try to embarrass Ali together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsandwritings/pseuds/wordsandwritings
Summary: Nahri and Muntadhir take tea over their burning marriage papers.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	Up In Flames

“I can’t believe it took abolishing the monarchy and a divorce to get you to finally taste the tea I like,” Nahri remarked, grinning over at her ex-husband. The flames danced over his battered and bruised face in the morning light, and despite the horror of his current appearance, he laughed.

“I’ll admit, it was more out of stubbornness, since you insisted on insulting my fancy wines. This is delicious,” he conceded. Following his release from the infirmary under Jamshid’s careful watch, Nahri had gone to him and announced that they were getting divorced. He had given her a smile bigger than any she had received during their marriage, declared that he would arrange the papers by the following evening, and a week later here they sat.

“Fitting that this is how it ends, as dramatic and heated as one of our arguments,” he noted, sipping the tea. “For what it’s worth, if things hadn’t gone awry as they did, I think we could have made it work eventually.” Nahri looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“You do?”

“You don’t?”

“It was a terrible match.”

“Terrible.”

At that she laughed and shook her head.

“I think it’s difficult to say. Things with your father were so tense, and both of our loyalties lay in different camps. I’d say we’ll do much better now, with our interests on the same side,” Nahri said.

“A very diplomatic answer which would have never been seen in my fiery-tongued wife. Perhaps you will mellow out Ali after all,” he teased her, and she rolled her eyes, a grin teasing her lips.

“Enough, he’d be mortified,” she chided. Muntadhir laughed.

“The joys of siblings,” he said, glancing over at her again. “Something you’ll no doubt come to understand. Baga Nahid, eh?” She hummed, noncommittal. “Oh come on, Nahri, like you said. We’re on the same side now. We can actually enjoy each other’s company instead of trying to manoeuvre our way through it.”

She had to admit he had a point. Muntadhir had always been surrounded by people who adored him, and whilst some of that was political nonsense, obviously some of it was because charisma rolled off him in waves. He had a witty tongue, a wicked sense of humour, and a new freedom from the role of emir that left him able to embrace these as he wished.

“I’ve spent my life with no family, and now here I am with more than one new blood relative and a royal family who will possibly become like siblings to me. I don’t know what to do with you all, I really don’t.” She was attempting to brush it off, but Muntadhir could see that in truth, she really was quite overwhelmed by the change.

“Not to bring things back to myself, but speaking from experience of believing I had lost all of those I loved, I would try not to let your guard creep back up, Nahri. I know you, believe it or not. Ali will not hurt you. Jamshid will be a wonderful brother to you, no matter the blood relation. And I will be pleased to work alongside you to build things back up,” he said quietly.

“And I you,” she said, moving to refill their cups from the teapot and clinking them together gently. “I suppose we’re a different kind of relation now. If not in law, but in heart. He told me that you’re moving in with him.” She didn’t need to specify who.

Muntadhir was silent for a moment before nodding. “Don’t tell Ali. Zaynab is leaving and we need to think of a way to tell him he’ll be in the palace alone without him having a crisis.” He surveyed her for a moment. “Did you know about me and Jamshid? When we were married?”

She shook her head. “Well I did. But not until later on. I have to confess that I overheard you two, when you found out Ali was coming back from Bir Nabat. And then I wasn’t sure how I missed it.”

“He was always very adamant that we were not together whilst I was married to you,” Muntadhir told her. “I know things between us were never anything meaningful, not really, but he never crossed that line.” There was another stretch of silence, them both knowing that the other was lost in their own thoughts as they watched the flames before them flicker, the papers now unrecognisable within the ashes. “Nahri, for what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry for how things were between us. I was a terrible husband to you, I was hard on you and didn’t give you a chance. I let old tensions and my father’s politics get in the way of truly getting to know you. I hope to make up for that now. And I will be better with Jamshid.” He appeared to be blushing somewhat and it occurred to her that he was almost asking for her blessing as well as her forgiveness.

“You were not a terrible husband. No, you were not the greatest, and you could be a prick at times. You were wilfully ignorant of things that were important to me. But you were also in your own tense position with your father, and you walked a line that was difficult to manage I am sure. You were never cruel, although your words could cut at times. I’m sure mine did too. And I am sorry as well. Although I think we can agree it was the fault of the match, not us,” Nahri joked.

“Terrible match indeed,” he laughed.

“I also won’t forget that you gave your life to help me and Ali escape,” Nahri said, before she allowed herself a teasing smile. “Quite the heroic tale actually.”

“I’m hoping someone talented will write a song about it,” Muntadhir said, but he did not smile back. He looked haunted, and in truth he was now a shadow of the man she had married. He had lost more than just an eye in the time he was a prisoner. His entire being seemed changed underneath his cheerful demeanour, and Nahri knew that his journey of healing would take decades. How lucky he would have the Baga Nahid by his side.

“You were a good leader for your people,” she said. “When it came down to it, Daevabad came first no matter the cost, even if that cost was you. I’d say there will be a fair few songs for the ages.” Muntadhir looked over at her, the neat dressing she had applied to his eye standing out starkly against the numerous cuts and bruises to his skin, left unseen to so that the Nahids’ time and energy could be spent healing the people instead. He was clean shaven now, his hair closely cropped to his scalp since he had been found with it mostly matted and unsalvageable.

“You will do well Nahri. Very well. And while I do not understand the system of government as well as the old one, I hope you know you can seek my counsel if you need it,” he said, in an attempt to guide the conversation elsewhere.

“Oh I’m counting on it actually, I’m relying on that political knack of yours. Seems a shame to waste all those years of training,” Nahri smiled. They fell into a comfortable silence as they finished their drinks, content in the fact that things between them were amicable, and that they had new lives to wish each other well in. After a brief interlude from Kartir and two requests from the infirmary for her to return, and Muntadhir realised he had lingered too long.

“I won’t keep you any longer. I think we can be sure they’re gone anyway,” he said, standing up and gesturing to the dimming firelight. “I will see you soon?” He asked, offering her a hand to get to her feet, which she surprisingly took for a change.

“You will. I am bringing pastries from my grandfather to Jamshid’s house. Cairo pastries. Since the tea is such a success you’re welcome to join us,” she said, and beneath the jab there was a genuine warmth that he was grateful he now got to experience.

“Tonight then. Have a good day, Nahri,” he said, inclining his head to her before turning away. She watched him walk, his gait still unsteady, and looking more like a frail old man than someone who still technically ruled their land. The calls came from the hospital and Nahri eventually went inside. Daevabad was still standing, the people’s lives returning to some semblance of normality, and there were many things to rebuild.


End file.
